


The Night's Glow (Speaks Volumes)

by Amonae



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Solarpunk, There be dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amonae/pseuds/Amonae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The island of Răsărit moves with the sun and the tide, chasing the daylight to the ends of the Earth and back. William, the heir to the prestigious Maximoff lineage, lives each day with the knowledge that his life is not his own to control. That is, until his brother leads him to the spark that will cause him to question everything he thought he ever knew about their home, their people, and himself. </p>
<p>A SolarPunk AU in which mutations are highly sought-after commodities, a caste system has created a disparaging gap among the people of Răsărit, and the only way to seek change in a Government so embroiled in decades of corruption is to revolt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my betas, Kuchen and Melerune. As always, I have no idea what I would do without you. The song mentioned in this chapter is "Riot Rhythm" by Sleigh Bells.
> 
> All comments and kudos are met with my undying gratitude. Should you find yourself wanting more regular updates, or to see what else I'm up to, come visit me on [](http://amonaewrites.tumblr.com/>my%20tumblr</a>.)

At the end of the twenty-first century, humanity reached the summit of their first nuclear war and the world was forced into change at missile-point. With natural resources depleting at a rate far faster than anyone had imagined, environmental organizations found a new stronghold within the global economy. Maintaining what precious commodities that remained garnered support above all else, above pursuing scientific discovery, before oil and gas and everything in between; the world became slowly reliant on a single, unifying cause—repair the damage their war had made.

Much of the mainland became uninhabitable, deserts wrought from great cities, homes and entire countries wiped from the map. When things had started to settle, when humanity began to rebuild, the floods came. Subtle at first, a trickling wave from the edges of rivers or the breach of an unstable dam, but things quickly spiralled out of control, even as the world’s greatest minds were scrambling toward any applicable solution. Nothing worked, and as the ice caps melted the world shrank and warped into something new. Technologies that had once been pursued with the highest passion were abandoned; travel via anything more exuberant than a carriage was unheard of, the resources required for vehicles of any sort seen as excessive and wasteful. Human-kind began on a new evolutionary path, one that had a distinct focus on all things equal and green. Somewhere along the way, mutations became a commodity.

Those who were born with the “x-gene” or “x-factor chromosome” were no longer shunned from general society, especially if their abilities were seen as a method of furthering the current ecological and technological goals. Flight, elemental manipulation, and psychological control were of particular interest to those in power.

Government dwindled to eight singular points across the globe, those points breaking off into separate branches that reached even the furthest segments of the Earth. They all managed to maintain the same political climate, reaching for the same end-goal of stabilization and a return to normalcy.

Until anything resembling normalcy was wiped from mankind’s memory when dragons descended from the skies.

The scaled creatures were not the only arrivals to their green planet—alongside them came a group of people, refugees from their own war-torn worlds, who sought to make the Earth their new home. With already-limited resources, the global leaders were reluctant to accept such strange cohabitors, but the wayward souls soon made themselves invaluable. Herbology, agriculture, and sources of renewable energy made progressive leaps at an extraordinary rate with the technologies and abilities of the newcomers. Not to mention, their skill with the dragons was unparalleled; travel and transport became a simple task, daunting even their most advanced efforts. With time, the refugees were as much a part of the Earth as those who inhabited it before, and word reached the far ends of the galaxy that this tiny blue planet was to be the new safe-haven for those seeking refuge.

With the implementation of an interplanetary aid program came more than a few snags, but those who spoke with dragons were always able to recoup any damage and disperse any foes.

Somehow, the world found peace among upheaval.

Now, centuries later, Răsărit moves with the sun and the tide, chasing the daylight to the ends of the Earth and back. The dawn will rise and set on the same side of the archipelago more often than not, the city slipping through the oceanic currents as smooth as silk. It is not the first floating metropolis, nor will it be the last, though the others are spread to reaches of oceans and seas far beyond what our people will ever see. Great cities that were built on the mainland have become as much myth as the dragons and their riders, tales to spin for children at bedtime.

\----

It was amazing how Ms. Jones could find new torture methods on a daily basis. The sun had long passed its zenith but still she droned on, giving lessons on history both old and dead, history that he was fairly certain he could recite in his sleep, at this point.

“I’m sorry, William. Am I boring you?”

Jerking to attention and pulling his eyes away from the glass-panelled wall beside him, Billy blinked the hazy daydream from his eyes. "Uh, no. Sorry, ma'am."

She pressed her fingers between her brows, frowning and rubbing at the wrinkled skin beneath her fingertips. "Well, since you appear to be so well-schooled on our history, why don't you tell me who was the first dragon rider–"

"K'varr!" He chirped quickly, grinning to himself only until he saw the smug look on his brother’s face.

"If you had let me finish," she continued sternly, looking anything but amused. "You would know I was asking for the name of the first dragon rider _born on Earth_. Asking for the name of a fairy tale hero is far too simple a question, especially for you, William."

He could feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment and he was fairly certain that Tommy was failing to control his mirth beside him.

“And you, Thomas? Can you provide the answer where your brother could not?”

“V’tega, daughter of Romasci and T’lla,” he answered quickly, smirk in place as he looked to the irate scowl on a face identical to his own. Billy watched the corner of his twin’s textbook flutter, quick as a flash, and his scowl deepened.

“You cheated.”

“Did not.”

“Did so!”

“Did nooooot.”

“Did–”

“Boys!” Ms. Jones called, voice booming among the stacks of bound books and scrolls, the vast caverns of knowledge absorbing some of the sound. “I think that’s quite enough for one day. I can see you are both too restless to be of any use. Go. And if I hear one word about you causing trouble,” here she looked at the pale-haired youth, eyes narrowed with a warning, “I will go straight to your grandfather, you hear?”

Both young men straightened in their seats, giving a quick nod.

“Yes’m,” Billy answered, his brother gone in a breeze at his side the second the words had left his lips. While Tommy would vacate the boundless halls for hours at a time, Billy preferred to hide himself among the tallest towers, nestled in the lesser-used alcoves with a book propped unsteadily upon his knees. He would much rather read stories of a world they no longer had than explore the confined boundaries of the one they lived in now. From the highest point in his childhood home, he could see all the edges of Răsărit within a single turn, from the beautiful craftsmen’s district to the scaling walls of the upper-level housing and all the way to the fisheries and slums that outcropped the fringes of the island, just past the low wall enclosing the city proper.

Today he was not afforded the luxury of peace and quiet, for the moment he reached his chamber to collect the book he was reading (Legends and Lore: The Dragon Riders, Vol. 2), he felt the brim of a stiff breeze gathering the sweeping border of his cloak. He was tugged in a full circle before he was released, narrowing his eyes at his brother once the white-haired youth stopped moving.

“What do you want, Tommy.” His voice was flat, hard-edged, hoping it would encourage the other to leave him be. Luck was not on his side today.

“We’re going out. Get changed.”

“No.” Billy ignored him, moving to the bookshelf to gather the leather-bound volume he sought. He was not even able to crouch before a flutter of plainclothes tumbled over his head. Making a disgruntled noise, he shoved them off, glaring at Tommy with venom in his eyes. “I’m not going.”

“You are. Get changed.”

“I am not.”

“I promise, it will be worth it. You’ve never seen a place like this.” Tommy was grinning, a wide, cutting smirk that spoke only of trouble. Billy knew the places his brother went, filled with all the things they had been warned against, all the things they had been told to avoid. This didn’t seem to deter his twin, instead egging him on the more ‘danger’ was attached to a particular task or area.

Billy shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to–”

“We’re going past the wall.”

He froze, halfway to dumping the clothing back into his dresser. “What?”

“You know, the wall. That big thing that we were told was electric and would fry us within a foot. It’s not, by the way. No rabid wolves on the other side, either. Well, unless you count the girls. Pretty sure America could bite off my arm on a good day.”

“We can’t. It’s forbidden.”

Tommy just continued to beam at him, the look filled with hard lines and sharp edges. “That’s what makes it so much fun.”

\----

“Keep your hood up.”

“Tommy, this is insane. If we get caught…”

“We’re not going to get caught.” Tommy groaned, scrubbing his face and looking down along the length of wall. No one was gathered here, an eerie quiet surrounding the metal and scrap forming the border. Past this was disease, death, decrepitness that was only a recipe for disaster. Billy had never even been this close, and he certainly wasn’t about to go leaping over the sharp edges now.

Turns out, he didn’t have a choice. Tommy grasped his hand and spouted a hurried “holdontightdon’tletgodon’tbesick” before they were moving _fastfastfast_ and when the world stopped zipping and whirling past him, Billy managed to see shambles of huts and a series of tents before his blurry vision.

“Tommy,” he hissed, eyes wide and wary and filled with fear as he glanced around, half expecting someone to jump from the shadows to do them in. But no one was here, the whole place seemed to be deserted. “Where is everyone? Did they… die?”

Vibrant green eyes stared at him so intently that Billy started when his brother began to laugh, loud and bright and boisterous. “No, you idiot! It’s _Noapate de Stele_. There’s a cântec de luptă down by the pit.”

None of these terms made a lick of sense to Billy , so he showed his displeasure with a deep frown and clung to the one word he could wrap his head around. “What the hell is the pit?”

“Come on. It’s not far. Keep your hood up,” Tommy reminded him, securing his wrap-around shades before slipping through a thin path. It wound them between buildings and along the edges of tents nearly collapsed upon themselves but eventually they came to a clearing. A clearing completely filled with people, jostling and swarming and swaying to the riotous sound of drums.

“What?” Billy whispered, but his voice was carried away by the sharp screech of an instrument he had never heard. When he squinted, he could see a stage erected at the front of the crowds, lining the mouth of a deep fault in the earth, looking for all the world like it was about to be swallowed by the ground. Lumini were strung up all around the edges, lighting the floor with an eerie green and gold glow.

“Come on,” Tommy shouted, dragging him off again before he could protest. They whisked through the pulsating bodies, reaching the front lines of the group just as a young woman slid onto the stage, smooth as silk, and began to sing in a tone that was simultaneously quiet and hard.

_You've got a smart best friend, she's OK_

_Have you had a smile today_

_Push the door and take your seats_

_I've been seen playin' for keeps_

Another girl joined the first, her voice brasher, dark hair a frenzied swirl about her face. Her movements weren’t as fluid but as she neared the edge of the stage people _roared_ at her.

_“_ _You've gotta march!_ _”_

Everyone around them was in motion, bodies swaying and listing about in a general rhythm to the music, though Billy couldn’t discern a particular pattern or behavior to their actions. No dancing he had ever seen looked like this, and no music for that matter had the same yowling screech and arcing beat of the drums.

And certainly no one dancing had ever looked like _that_.

Billy felt his mouth go dry when he caught sight of the sun glinting off metal, rows upon rows of piercings lining the delicate shell of an ear. He was fairly certain there was a bar going through and over as well, but with the way that the young man was dancing, he only had a fleeting glimpse before blue eyes met his own, a brilliant smile covering sun-kissed cheeks. He returned the expression with a hesitant smile of his own before quickly turning to Tommy, grabbing his sleeve and halting him mid-motion.

“What?” Tommy shouted, a scowl on his face as he turned away from the pretty young woman Billy supposed he had been wooing.

“Who is _that_?” Billy hissed, drawing close to whisper in Tommy’s ear, aware of that oceanic gaze still on him.

Rolling his eyes in an exaggerated gesture, his brother heaved out his words in one breath. “I don’t know it’s not like I know everyo-oh. Him? Blond dude with way too much metal on him for his own good?”

Billy’s blush was all the answer he needed, apparently.

“Hulkling,” Tommy answered, grinning when chestnut eyes went wide. “That’s what he’s called, anyway, for those in the know. Goes by Teddy, on a normal day. You’re welcome.” And with that he turned away, back to his own dance partner who had grown impatient and started to sway along with her equally-pretty friend.

When he turned, the flush revitalized itself full-force. The blond man was watching him, swaying his hips in a way that should seriously be illegal. Maybe it was, but Billy approached him anyway, trying to keep his movements from being the stilted staccato he was sure they were. Only a few feet away, he realized he had no idea what to do with his limbs, though he tried to imitate the motions of people around him. The blond laughed and grinned at him, closing the gap between them to put his large hands on Billy’s trim hips, rocking them side to side to the beat of the drums. Once Billy was moving on his own, a little less like a broken puppet, the hands released him and returned to swaying wildly above a golden head.

They didn’t speak, Billy wasn’t sure that anything he said would even be heard over the rushing swell of sound around them. He moved his hips and let his arms flow around his body in a smooth progression, though he was ninety percent sure he just looked like a huge idiot. The young man Tommy claimed was ‘Hulkling’ was with him through the whole song, their eyes meeting now and then, the grin slipping back onto the blond’s features every time.

It made Billy’s motions falter a little, but he ignored the pounding in his chest and focused on timing it with the pounding of the drums. Maybe then the other wouldn’t hear his nerves echo through the air between them.

After a few minutes there was a lull in the music, turning towards something softer, something raspier. Billy turned his attention to the stage to see who had begun to sing now, but was startled by warm breath ghosting across the edge of his ear. The blond must have been closer than he thought if he could feel that through the fabric of his hood.

“Hey, you’re a pretty good dancer.”

Billy reverted his attention to the other, cheeks flaring the same shade of crimson as his clothing. “Uh, um… you too.”

“Teddy.” He offered a hand and that grin again, which Billy took and held onto as though it were a lifeline.

“Billy.”

Teddy pulled him forward then, the grin flashing a hint of something heavier for only a moment. The motion startled him, nearly knocking him off his feet, but he was tugged into a warm chest instead. Teddy’s hand moved from his shoulder, where it had gone to steady him, to the trim lines of his waist. “So, Billy. You wanna keep dancing with me?”

“Um!” Billy flustered his way through a few non-words before the screech of the instruments cut out, a pop-bang going off somewhere to the west of where they were standing. Teddy went rigid beside him, but didn’t release his hand. Before he got more than a glimpse of Tommy’s shock-white hair zig-zagging through the crowds and the leather-gold helms of the city’s guard, he was being pulled away through the screaming, running, rushing groups of people. It took no time at all for him to be turned around among the maze of side-streets and jostling crowds. Teddy didn’t look back, just kept pulling him onwards through alleys and back routes, even cutting through a few of the decrepit buildings when there were no other options available to them.

By the time they had stopped, Billy was wheezing, clutching his knees as he crouched, doubled-over, against the warm brick of a dilapidated warehouse. The blond was standing over him, eyes watching the exits, every fiber of his body on alert.

“You good? We shouldn’t stay here too long.” Teddy’s voice was sharp, urgent, and Billy couldn’t keep the frustration in his chest from emerging as an enraged tone.

“What the hell happened back there?! And my brother, he was there too! How am I supposed to go back home if I can’t find him!” He was screaming now and when he snapped his head up to glower at the man beside him and could see the exact moment that all the color drained from Teddy’s tanned cheeks.

“Gods above,” the blond hissed, quickly dropping to his knees before Billy, making himself small, prostrating himself along the filthy ground.

That’s when Billy realized the motion he had felt about his ears was the slick slide of his hood as it fell from where it shielded his features. Most importantly, where it shielded the signet winding along and through the helix of his left ear. “Teddy, I’m…”

Teddy didn’t speak, he didn’t have to, as moments later a blast of air filled the narrow corridor, a hand snatching his hood and moving it back into position. Tommy glared at him, gaze more furious than he had ever seen on his easy-going twin before now. He quickly flashed his anger to the blond, hauling him to his feet and snapping his fingers before a shell-shocked face.

“Hulkling. Civilians. Now.” That was all it took for Teddy to nod, eyes never once leaving the ground as he turned on his heel and darted from the alleyway. Billy lurched forward, reluctant to let him go, but Tommy grasped his wrist painfully tight. “You are coming home with me. We can’t be here.”

“But--”

“No. Trust me, we won’t be helping them by being here. America and Eli have it covered. Don’t worry.”

“We could help!” he insisted, trying to pry away his arm but failing miserably as his twin pulled him close.

“No. We can’t. Stop this. We are going home.” Tommy’s voice was stern and in that moment it reminded Billy so much of their grandfather that he stilled, bobbing his head despite his reluctance.

“Fine. Okay.”

Then the world went by in a whirlwind and Billy only just managed to make it into his private chambers before he started retching into the toilet.

\----

“William, is there something on your mind?”

His mother’s voice cut crisp and clear through the dining hall, despite the lofty ceiling and elongated table. Billy turned his gaze from his plate, where he had been pushing the entirety of his dinner in circles, creating a messy swirl of color. Wanda Maximoff sat at the right-hand side to the head of the table, the two spaces next to her lacking their usual patrons. Even without all the ceremonial adornments, she was an imposing figure, shoulders back and eyes calm, not betraying an inkling of emotion that may be lurking beneath. She could still strike an arc of fear through his chest without uttering a single word.

“I’m just not very hungry.”

The moment he spoke, he could see that she didn’t believe him. Normally, this would be brought up, addressed, and the truth would be wrung from his lips before he could even defend the cause. Tonight, however, it was just the three of them at the table, and when his grandfather or uncle were not present, his mother tended to be _far_ more lenient.

“And Thomas? What were you up to this afternoon? I heard that you two were dismissed from lessons early due to…an excessive amount of, how do you say, excitement?”

“Wenttovisitmyfriends,” Tommy replied all-at-once, words stringing together into a single sentence before he shoveled another forkful of mixed greens into his mouth. Billy only just managed to refrain from making a face that showcased his disgust.

“That’s nice, dear.”

Their meal progressed in relative silence with stilted instances of conversation interrupting it, all of it light and irrelevant. It was often like this with their mother, words repeated day after day without holding any true meaning. Ever since they were young, the boys learned who their mother was only in comparison to her father: how her attitudes changed on a silver breeze, what words rolled past her lips and in what order, and most importantly—how she treated her sons. When Grandfather was around, Billy barely recognized the woman before him. All of her kindness was drained, leaving a false shell of palpably sweet words that would come with sharp edges and sharper consequences.

His mother was ruled by her fears as much as they were.

Billy frowned at his plate, strongly desiring the ability to leave the stagnant air of the dining room for the open breezes that whisked through his bedroom windows, creating a whorl of air that felt nearly like the brush of magic over his skin. However, until they were dismissed, the twins were to remain at the table whether they had finished their meals or not. It was polite behavior, as they had learned as toddlers, barely able to keep themselves upright in their heightened chairs. Billy just thought it was a new kind of psychological torture.

He heard the door burst _openshut_ in one quick clatter and felt his shoulder twitch in response. His uncle was seated at the left-handed side of the table’s head chair before Billy was able to recover from his body’s reaction to the noise. Tommy kicked him twice in rapid succession under the table, mouthing a silent ‘two for flinching’ while their uncle turned to speak with their mother.

“Sorry I’m late. Trouble down below. Those squabs are causing more trouble than they are worth. Father thinks--”

“Pietro.” His mother’s voice was hard, halting any other words that bubbled to her sibling’s lips. “No speaking of work at the table.”

Their uncle grunted, a short, sharp sound as he accepted the plate that contained his meal from a server that slipped through the room as quietly as though she were not there at all. No one spoke to her, or even deigned a glance in her direction. She slipped back into the shadows, eyes down and shoulders hunched.

“Will father be joining us?”

“No. He is staying behind, a few days longer. There have been…complications.”

Wanda raised a brow but did not question the comment, her features expressing that they would talk later. “Boys. You are dismissed.”

“ThanksmombyeUncleP.” Tommy’s words tumbled from his lips as he darted from the room, the goblet that had contained his water shuddering through an uneasy wobble.

Billy went to stand, earning the hard sound of his uncle clearing his throat. He sat back down.

“Are you not eating? Is there something wrong with the food?” Eyes the color of ice chips were narrowed in his direction and Billy broke the gaze as quickly as he could.

“No, I…I am not hungry.”

Unlike his mother, his uncle did not drop the subject so easily. “You will need to eat before you go. People are starving on this rock, you can at least do the decency of not throwing away perfectly good food.”

“Pietro,” his mother began, warning in his tone.

“No, Wanda. I’m holding on this one.” He brought another forkful of food to his mouth, watching Billy with a hard gaze.

Billy kept his eyes on his own plate and managed to force himself through half of it when he felt his stomach beginning to turn and roil with the same uncomfortable motion as before. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and spoke, voice soft. “May I be dismissed?”

There was silence, and when he looked up, Billy could see a silent conversation passing between his mother and uncle, a conversation held only with the slight movement of their eyes.

Finally, when he was sure that if he had to stay here a moment longer he would be sick, his mother answered. “Yes, William. You may go.”

“Thank you, mother,” he whispered, darting from the room as quickly as he dared, feeling his uncle’s disapproving glare boring a hole into his shoulders.

He wasn’t quick enough, for as he was leaving the dining hall, he heard the words, hard as the ice in Pietro’s eyes. “He will never be strong enough. You baby him.”

“He will be fine. He is yet a child, let him be.” His mother’ voice was calm, soothing, but carrying a hint of protective poison.

“We will see.”

\----

By the time he returned to his room, Billy no longer felt the wave and rock of his stomach. Instead, it was replaced with a horrible dread as his mind turned over all of the events of the day. Teddy thought he was some kind of a monster, like his Grandfather. Uncle Pietro did not think him enough of a monster, or at least too weak to become the man they think he should be. And among it all, Billy didn’t know what he was supposed to be, who he should want to be. He knew where his path lay, what the future held for him, but he had never bothered to think about what else he could be, where else he could walk in life.

Until Tommy took him past the wall.

Until he heard that horrible screech that somehow loaned itself to music.

Until he saw Teddy dance.

He couldn’t say whether he’d come to some personal epiphany or not, but Billy knew that he wanted, _needed_ to see Teddy again. If anything, to apologize, to clarify that he never meant to pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

It was just, for a little while, he felt freedom. And it was intoxicating. And maybe, just maybe, if he explained it all to Teddy those bright blue eyes would turn his way again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling his cheeks color, Billy cleared his throat. “I want to go back to the outer rims.”
> 
> There was no reply, just the sound of the cap popping on the drink and the quiet fizz that followed. “Why?” Tommy asked, taking a quick swig before cramming half a biscuit in his mouth.
> 
> “Because.”
> 
> “Because why?” Bits of biscuit sprayed everywhere.
> 
> “Ugh, you’re infuriating, you know that?” Billy threw up his arms and started to stalk toward the door, grumbling all the while. “Just forget it!”
> 
> A hand grasped the back of his cloak, nearly choking him on his progression back to his own room, and Tommy smirked. There were crumbs gathered at the corners of his lips. “You wanna see him, huh?”
> 
> “Shut up,” he complained, lacking the venom in his tone that may have made his words convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuchen and Melerune, you guys are the best. Seriously, I don’t know how I would ever finish anything in time without your gentle prodding. <3
> 
> This will update once a month, at minimum. All comments and kudos are met with my undying gratitude. To see what else I'm up to, come visit me on [](http://amonaewrites.tumblr.com/>my%20tumblr</a>.)

The next morning brought the sun, bright and crisp and clear, piercing through the remnants of a dream half-remembered. Something gold and gleaming ran through his mind before the brash sound of bells heralded the start of a new day. Billy groaned and pressed his face to the airy cotton sheets in a vain attempt to halt the progression of time. Whether he wanted to wake or not, there was only so much time before he was expected downstairs to break fast with the rest of his family and that time was dwindling with each passing second. Tumbling in an inelegant jumble from the sheets, he pressed both palms to his eyes and contemplated feigning illness.

It wouldn’t work. Grandfather was due to return this morning, and it would be an ill decision to remain upstairs only to hear about it in a lecture at a later date.

He got out of bed and moved to the adjoining room, knowing the large tub would already be filled to the brim with steaming water and a collection of scented oils; rosemary and sage mingled with a touch of mint in cascading drifts across the smooth surface. Every other morning was the same, a luxury afforded to their family due to providence, hot water ready for his use as though by magic. It wasn’t magic, of course. It was possible only by the aid of the help, with whom Billy had spent his entire life and yet, he didn’t know a single one by name.

For all he knew, Grandfather had taken their names upon acquisition, along with their freedom.

The water was pure bliss as he stripped and slid beneath the surface, the excess bubbling up and spilling over the edge. He could hear it, spiralling down the drain, through the floor and away. He wasn’t sure where exactly _away_ led to, but that was all his mother had told him when, as a naive child, he had asked.

_“Momma? You said bath days are special. Why?”_

_“Because, William. Most people cannot afford the luxury.”_

_“But how do they get **clean**?”_

_“Well, some bathe once a month and spend the rest dry bathing. There’s a powder, you see. Others bathe in the ocean, but that is dangerous. One wrong move and they could be swept away, lost.”_

_“Like the bath water!”_

_“Yes, William. Like the bath water.”_

His mother had been exceedingly patient with him, in those days, when questions would rise unbidden to his young mind and his mouth would form the words before he could contemplate their meaning. Now, he didn’t dare ask after those ideas that flickered through his head, swift as minnows in tidepools. Billy learned quickly enough that as he grew older, the frivolous nature of his upbringing dissolved around him. Now he was expected to speak a certain way, carry himself just so, and ensure that his behavior was always, _always_ perfect. Anything less and he found himself before Grandfather, quivering in fear of the punishments that only seldom were bypassed.

By the time he pulled himself from the cooling water, there was a heavy, rapid knocking at his door and the sound of his brother’s voice echoing throughout his room in a whirlwind.

“Billyhurryupyou’regoingtobelate.”

When he entered the spaciousness of his bedroom, Tommy was gone but a fresh set of clothing was laid on his bed in a haphazard mess, as though it had been tossed in a hurry. Rolling his eyes, he pulled on the loosely fitting slacks first, a light material that had been dyed a mossy shade of green, before tugging on layer upon layer. First the a pale cream colored shirt which was soft and wispy, then a crisp vest darker than the night sky, and an array of loosely coiled scarves in jeweled tones and bright golden chains to link them all together. Some of the fabric settled low around his hips, others wrapping almost tight about his neck while their counterparts swooped over the curve of his biceps. Finally he clasped an intricate brooch wrought in greens and golds just over the shudder of his heartbeat.

If Tommy had decided to set aside this particular outfit for him, it meant Grandfather was indeed back and that things likely had not gone as well as had been hoped.

“Might as well get this over with…” he whispered to the empty hallows of his room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he made his way through the thin corridors to the dining hall. Here, the ceilings were high, reaching to the very top of the building and letting the glow of natural lighting brush across the wooden panels and archways that made up his childhood home. If he looked up, he could see the help scurrying across the narrow walkways that stretched between rooms on the upper levels, made to be shortcuts for those who lived here, though only rarely used by his family. When they were children, he and Tommy would dare each other to cross faster and faster and faster just to see who would be the first to fall.

It was Billy who fell the first time, when he was only six. With arms pinwheeling through the air he tumbled past the other walkways, past gasping housemaids, closer and closer to the chiseled marble floors. His powers manifested in a bright burst of blue, filling the whole hall with light as his small body halted itself mid-air.

After that, everything had changed. He was wrenched from his twin, forced into a series of lessons and practices that would encourage the development of his newly-found powers. As the first child to showcase a mutation, he was deemed the one most suited to take over when his Grandfather finally passed on his lineage. Billy had questioned why not his mother, who had long ago shown promise with the strength of her magic, or his uncle, who had proven himself invaluable at his father’s side.

Grandfather had sat him down, voice stern and hard, his hand squeezing sharp and tight on Billy’s shoulder.

“They are not capable of this, William. I require strength, stability, and most of all the strictest of loyalties in whomever will take my place. Your mother and uncle do not possess these traits, but I believe you do.”

For a time, he felt proud of that fact, keeping his head held high as he made consistent attempts to be everything he was intended to be. Now, it was a weight on his shoulders, a constant pressure, like the heft of Grandfather’s hand, always reminding him that he could not afford to be any less than the best, any less than perfect.

The large double doors that led to the dining hall were shut, but he could hear the drift of voices through the mahogany. There was the gentle lilt of his mother’s voice, the brassy tone of his uncle, and the heavy, stern growl of his grandfather. Steeling himself, bringing his chin up and shoulders back, Billy stepped into the room.

Every eye swiveled to him, a hush coming over the trio of adults gathered at the head of the table. Tommy was already seated in his own spot, hands folded and appearing patient, though Billy knew his knee was probably bouncing an unsteady rhythm beneath the table.

“William. How nice of you to join us.”

He felt the quiver run up his spine and he hurried to his seat, hands clenched to fists at his sides. “Sorry, Grandfather.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again. Tardiness is not something that will be tolerated in his household.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

At the head of the table his grandfather, Magnus Maximoff, sat tall and foreboding with his palms curled around the arms of his chair as he watched Billy take his seat. Only once he had settled did the conversation pick up again, as though his arrival hadn’t interrupted it at all.

“The trouble is mostly at the Prismă docks. There is something of a rebel group that has established itself, despite our efforts.”

“My apologies, father. They have proved quite… _illusive_ these past weeks.” Pietro was scowling, his eyes boring holes into the tabletop.

“They will need to be stopped, sooner rather than later.” Grandfather took a deep drink from his cup, holding his arm out in a broad gesture. Almost immediately, a young woman hurried to refill the wooden mug from a large pitcher, bowing her head deep and darting away again without a single word.

Billy focused on his meal and on keeping his eyes from sliding to the far end of the table, where the discussion continued as though the young twins were not present at all. Tommy, for his part, seemed completely bored with the whole topic and tore through the meal with his usual sloppy speed. After what felt like forever, they were dismissed from the dining hall.

Just as he was standing, Billy heard the harsh sound of Grandfather clearing his throat.

“William, stay behind a moment, if you will.”

He swallowed around the lump in his chest. “Of course, Grandfather.”

Tommy zipped from the room, their uncle following at a quick clip with heavy steps, and finally their mother swept from the table, after leaning down to press a quick kiss to the crown of Grandfather’s steel-gray hair.

_And then there were two…_

Billy felt the uneasy churn of his stomach and tried his best to remain calm as he approached the head of the table. He knew, that had to be it. Somehow, his grandfather had found out about their little escapade the previous night and was here to explain, in great detail, the terms and conditions of their punishment. But if that were the case, why was he the only one present? Why had Tommy been dismissed?

“William. Please sit.”

He quickly moved to the seat where his mother would normally be, feeling the familiar twinge of her presence quiver like lightning up his spine. Focusing his attention on the imposing man before him, Billy felt his heart pick up an unsteady tempo.

“I believe, as you are nearly of age, it is time that you start learning what your responsibilities will be when it comes time for you to head this family.”

Billy nodded, head moving in a stilted bob.

“You will attend council meetings with me on a semi-regular basis. I expect you to listen and remain quiet, you are there to learn, not interrupt.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“We will begin tomorrow. There is a meeting in the morning, you will exempt from your lessons that day. I am also bringing in a tutor to help develop your magic.”

“But I thought…” Billy snapped his mouth shut, seeing the fury in eyes the color of raging tides. Of course he was wrong. He knew that although things appeared pleasant between his mother and her father, they were jagged and sharp just beneath the surface. Even though her power—which was so like his own—was the epitome of control, he would not be learning from her. Simply because Grandfather did not wish it.

“Of course, Grandfather,” he murmured, focusing his attention on the swirling pattern of the wood grain in the tabletop. It helped to keep his mind from lashing out against his better judgement.

“Very good. You are dismissed. I will send someone to fetch you in the morning.”

Billy jerked his head up and down in a hasty nod before retreating from the dining hall as quickly as his lanky legs could move him.

\----

The days rolled by in a hurry, nearly all of Billy’s free time consumed either by classes with Ms. Jones or self-defense lessons or tutoring from his new magic instructor or endless strategic meetings that Grandfather insisted would ‘profit his ability to determine the best line of action for future quarrels.’ He mostly tried his best not to fall asleep.

Throughout each of these frenzied days, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back to his short visit past the wall. More specifically, the few moments he had spent with Teddy that hadn’t been spoiled by who he was or where he came from or what his Grandfather meant to the community as a whole. That hadn’t lasted long, but Billy still got a bubbly feeling welling up in the center of his chest when he thought of golden hair and sparkling blue eyes and a smile that seemed to promise so much more.

Now all he could think of was returning, if not to repair the damage he had done, to at least apologize for pretending to be something he was not. This was how he found himself loitering around Tommy’s door one afternoon, waiting for the speedster to return so he could make a valid attempt at bribing him. Billy had two sweet biscuits and a bottle of pear cider buried within the folds of his hooded cloak, hoping these would help to soften his twin enough that he might agree to such a crazy whim.

It seemed like only a moment or two had passed, but Billy jerked awake when he felt a hand on his shoulder give him a rapid shake, followed by an annoyed snort.

“Why are you sleeping outside my room?” Tommy was glowering down at him, arms crossed and a little furrow between his brows. He looked grungy, his clothing dusty and worn in a few places, a tear along his ribs revealing a scratch already-scabbed.

Billy rubbed at his eyes and slowly pulled his body to a standing position. His legs and back were stiff, though he supposed that was a result of sleeping while practically seated on the floor. “I wanted to ask you something. A favor.”

Before he could speak further, Tommy was pushing past him and into the room, tossing ruined clothes haphazardly before retreating into the adjoining washroom. Since he didn’t slam the door in his face, Billy followed, closing the door behind him and placing his filched goods on the small table near the window. He stood awkwardly for a moment before hearing the rushed spray of the showerhead and decided he may as well sit.

It gave him time to think, to wonder if this was as ridiculous as it sounded in his head. Going after someone to apologize even though it may not do any good to the damage inflicted on their, however brief, relationship—what was he even apologizing for anyway? For being part of his family, something he did not choose, or for being the heir? That was not his choice either, no matter what it may have seemed to the public eye three years ago.

The announcement had happened during one of the few instances in his lifetime he could remember Răsărit being docked at the surface. He was not yet old enough to travel with his Grandfather, mother, and uncle to the smooth, dusty surface of what used to be ‘North America,’ but he watched from the tallest tower. He tracked their little ship, a creation made solely of metal and wood, as it proceeded all the way to greet the majesty of a floating island before returning back to that sprawling desert. At least, he assumed it was desert, for all he could see in any direction was the drifting twists of hills and cliffs, everything colored a rusty hue in the evening’s light.

He had watched that broad expanse, new and startling and completely foreign to his young mind, as it disappeared into the darkness of the night. With the dawn came his ‘gift,’ a spiralling work of gold and jewels, thin and delicate and vaguely the shape like the outer edge of his ear. On one end was a golden blossom, a deep red ruby set in the center. On the other, a single, jagged thorn. He was not aware that the thorn was to be a needle and his ear the canvas.

It had hurt. No matter how his mother had consoled him beforehand, it had been the most painful experience of his life. Yet he sat as still as he could in her arms, biting hard on the inside of his lip to keep from crying out as each pass of the bright gold through his flesh stained it a darker shade of crimson. For the most part, Grandfather appeared to be doing his best to ensure it was not painful, that each loop of the precious metal was as smooth as possible. However, Billy couldn’t help a tiny whimper from shuddering past his lips, somewhere between the eighth and ninth piercing. Grandfather scowled and his movements became harder, less patient, after that.

Then there had been a small ceremony on the ship and a lot of loud noises but Billy had barely paid attention to any of it, so focused on the burning ache of his ear and the rising sense of pride swelling in his chest. It was customary for the oldest child to inherit the family’s command, however, Magnus had not seen either of his children fit for the task and chose to await the arrival of his grandchildren instead. Out of the two, Billy supposed he had been a better choice, though he was beginning to realize what Tommy had dodged by being such an uncontrollable child.

He might be smarter than Billy gave him credit for, sometimes.

Tommy re-appeared, fully dressed and scruffing a towel through his pale hair as he approached the table. At the first sight of the biscuits and beverage, he raised a brow. “You must want to do something _really_ bad if you stole shit from the kitchen to bribe me with.”

Feeling his cheeks color, Billy cleared his throat. “I want to go back to the outer rims.”

There was no reply, just the sound of the cap popping on the drink and the quiet fizz that followed. “Why?” Tommy asked, taking a quick swig before cramming half a biscuit in his mouth.

“Because.”

“Because _why_?” Bits of biscuit sprayed everywhere.

“Ugh, you’re infuriating, you know that?” Billy threw up his arms and started to stalk toward the door, grumbling all the while. “Just forget it!”

A hand grasped the back of his cloak, nearly choking him on his progression back to his own room, and Tommy smirked. There were crumbs gathered at the corners of his lips. “You wanna see him, huh?”

“Shut up,” he complained, lacking the venom in his tone that may have made his words convincing.

“What’s in it for me? No, no wait. I’ve got it. You can owe me a favor.” Tommy’s grin was all sharp edges and red warning signs.

Billy frowned. “I don’t know…”

“You wanna see him or not?” Both biscuits were now gone and the cider bottle was wavering at the edge of the table. Billy hadn’t even seen him move.

Clenching his hands into tight fists at his sides, he took a deep breath, steadying himself as much as he could. “Fine. When do we go?”

Tommy grinned, that toothy smile that only meant trouble. “Tonight. Be ready after dinner. I’ll come get you.”

\----

When evening rolled around Billy was pacing the length of his bedroom, stomach twisted into knots as his mind raced ahead of him with wild conclusions. What if Tommy decided not to take him after all? And even if he did, what was Billy going to say? ‘Hi, I’m sorry for being a Maximoff but I think you’re super hot’?

That wasn’t really an option.

He ran out of said options, and ideas, by the time three sharp raps on his bedroom door forcibly removed him from his thoughts. The second he opened the door, Tommy was grinning at him wolfishly, a finger held over his lips as a gesture for silence before he grasped his twin’s arm and the pale-haired blur was whisking them both away into the night.

The first time Tommy had taken him for a run, Billy had been sick.

And the second.

And the third time, too.

By the fourth he was starting to understand that it was easier just to avoid food altogether in the hours before they had a planned excursion, though as a child Tommy was just as sporadic as he was now. Half the time Billy found himself pulled away just after breakfast, listening to an extensive lecture moments later when their mother found them in the garden, Billy’s breakfast already fertilizing the rose bushes.

His stomach still roiled with the after-effects of super-speed and he clutched his knees once they had stopped, taking deep, gulping breaths of air. There was the tang of saltwater on his lips and when Billy looked up, he realized they had traveled to the very edge of Răsărit. The sun peered over the horizon, painting the water a multitude of warm hues, stretching the last tendrils of light to brush against the workers hauling nets from the churning water.

That’s when he realized that his eyes had immediately focused on one figure out of the crowd, muscles straining across broad shoulders as Teddy pulled at the handline and drew the fine mesh onto the man-made shoreline. The remaining light glinted off the silvery fish as the blond crouched to remove them from the netting, tossing them into a large cache sunken into the base of the shore.

Teddy sat back, wiping the back of his hand across a sweaty brow, and in an instant that blue gaze locked onto his own. They both froze. Billy could feel the shudder of tension running up his spine. Just as quickly, the connection was broken, Teddy snapping his his attention back to his work—but not before Billy caught a glimpse of the agonized turmoil that flashed through his expression.

Beside him, Tommy was practically buzzing, finger tapping an unsteady beat against his thigh. When the pair broke their gaze as though they’d been burned, the pale-haired young man let out an agonized wail. “Oh for the love…you two are worse than a pair of kids.”

There was a quick breeze of movement and before he could open his mouth to protest, Tommy was already at the edge of the shore, speaking in hushed tones with the wary blond. Occasionally, he would point back to Billy, who quickly averted his eyes as he felt the embarrassed flush rising along the back of his neck.

A conversation passed between the pair, too hushed for Billy to make out any of the words. He tugged his hood further about his ears, uncomfortable. Some of the other workers had started to watch him, loitering about the edge of the shoreline, probably looking incredibly suspicious. By the time Tommy sidled back over, he was staring at his sandals, pale cheeks flaring a brilliant crimson.

“He’s gotta finish up work, but he’ll meet us at the Rat after.”

“At the what?” But Tommy was already walking away and he had no choice but to follow.

\----

‘The Rat,’ it turned out, was a half-sunken quonset hut nestled among the larger buildings on the outskirts of the wall. One end of the corrugated metal tapered off into the shape of a snout and someone had painted a large, algae-bright eye onto the side.

Billy frowned and was about to protest when the door to the ramshackle building burst open and a cacophony of sound accosted his ears. He resisted the urge to cover them.

“Sounds like Noh-Varr is performing,” Tommy shouted, even though Billy could barely hear him over the noise. His twin waved at whoever had just left the building, the figure giving an exuberant wave in response. Billy was jostled with a quick shove before being dragged toward the now-closed door.

“Tommy!” the girl shrieked, jumping at him and tossing her arms casually about his shoulders in a clingy hug. “How are you? It’s been ages!”

Tommy’s grin was a mile wide, lacking the sarcastic bite it usually held. “Sorry Cass. It’s been a little crazy lately.”

“Ooo, and you brought a friend!” she chirped, glancing over Tommy’s shoulder to get a better look. In the quickly-dimming light, Billy could make out the pale hue of her hair and a broad, friendly smile.

“Not exactly,” Tommy answered, pulling away just enough to motion at Billy, who was trying to make himself smaller under the intense scrutiny. “Cassie, meet my brother. Billy. He’s kind of a wet blanket–”

“Hey!”

“–but he _insisted_ I bring him.”

Billy glowered, about ready to rip the smirk off his twin’s stupid face if Tommy mentioned anything about the reason he had wanted to return so badly. Thankfully, the jerk just grinned at him, taunting him with the information that swelled just beneath the surface.

The girl didn’t seem to notice the war between their gazes, jutting her hand out in Billy’s direction, the same smile pulling at her cheeks. “Nice to meet ya, Billy. I’m Cassandra. Everyone calls me Cassie, though.”

He took her hand. It was warm and soft and he could feel some of the tension between his shoulders draining at the touch. “Nice to meet you, Cassie.”

She beamed at him and before he could process what was happening she had wrenched open the door again and was dragging him into the heart of that horrible sound. However, once he was inside, it sounded much less a screaming banshee than a quiet, subtle wail. His gaze was immediately drawn to the only area that wasn’t cluttered with tables and chairs or taken up by the bulk of the bar; seated on a chair, one ankle propped casually on his knee, was the producer of the sound. His features were brushed with the calmness of relaxed concentration, pale hair slipping over his forehead as he swayed to the tune.

Billy stared for quite some time before he realized he was staring, watching thin fingers brush over a series of keys and strings, the combination both confusing and intriguing. He had never seen an instrument so complex, though the man playing it seemed to be just as comfortable with the movement of his digits as he was with breathing. Tommy was waving him over to the bar, impatience wrought across his features, so Billy moved quickly to his side. Cassie said something too quietly for him to hear before vanishing into a back room, the door to which was tucked along the side of the bar, so narrow he almost didn’t notice it. There was a woman, shoulders back and head down as she worked with something at the back surface. In the swirl of her dark hair, he saw a familiarity. Over a break in the sound, his twin motioned to the young woman behind the counter, his grin wide and false.

“Billy, meet America. America, my brother, Billy.”

“If he’s half as poorly behaved as you are, I’ll have Eli kicking both your asses to the curb by the end of the hour,” she growled, turning from where she had been polishing the glasses along the back counter. Billy’s brows shot up, recognizing the snarled tangle of curls about her face, the hard rasp to her voice.

“I know you!” he exclaimed, earning a confused look from both his brother and America. “I mean, I saw you. The other day, at the, the…” His mind fumbled for the words, lips twisted into a frown.

“The cântec de luptă?” she asked, expression listing toward intrigue instead of caution. “Did you enjoy the show? Well, before those _porci_ showed up and ruined the whole thing.”

“It was,” he watched the tilt of her brow, the wary expression on her face, and felt as though he should think his answer over carefully lest he wind up on his butt outside the ‘Rat’, “amazing, I mean, I’ve never seen or heard anything like it.”

She was silent for a moment more before her stern expression broke out into a grin almost as sharp-edged as Tommy’s. “Good! That’s what me an’ Hawk like to hear!”

“Hawk?” Billy asked, feeling once again like he had been left out of the proverbial loop.

Tommy turned to him, angling his shoulders so he could both speak comfortably with Billy but watch Noh-Varr’s performance at the other end of the building. “Hawk, Hawkeye, Lady H, whatever you wanna call her. She was the other singer, and our main proponent in—”

“Tommy?”

“Eli!”

Billy looked to see where the newcomer had come from, but what he saw was a young man by the door Cassie had disappeared through, trying to shove Tommy away mid-hug.

“For Christ’s sake, Tommy. Get the hell off me,” he snarled, voice low and dark. He looked to America for aid, but she had returned to cleaning the glasses, so he just growled again.

“You missed me, don’t lie!”

“I sure didn’t miss having to kick your ass outta here every night. I thought you were banned for life.”

“Such cruelty when I bring you new customers.” Tommy then waved a hand, haphazardly, toward Billy, who suddenly felt very small under the narrow-eyed scrutiny.

“Uh huh. Can’t say that he’s much of a customer if he ain’t buying anything.”

“Oh, I…” Billy reached into the folds of his cloak, intent on fetching the small pouch of coins he had for his personal allowance, but Tommy was next to him in a flash, clutching at his elbow and halting any further movement.

“Lighten up, Eli. He’s my brother.”

That seemed to hit a nerve with the young man, his whole body went tight and hard, eyes narrowing more than it seemed possible. “Why did you bring him here.” It wasn’t a question, there was too much bite behind the words for it to be a simple query—it felt like a threat.

“Harsh, much? He’s here to see Teddy, not you. So sorry,” Tommy lilted, releasing his twin’s arm and settling onto the stool beside him instead.

Eli answered with a short sound, something with the approximation of a grunt, before he slipped behind the counter and started helping America with shelving the line of now-clean glasses. By the time they had finished, pausing only to polish the bar’s countertop to a gleaming shine, nearly all of the tables were occupied and there was a constant buzz of chatter around the bar. Billy was feeling uncomfortable with the press of strangers, bodies brushing against his side and back as people moved around him to get a drink. He had tugged his hood forward, trying to block out his surroundings, to block out Tommy’s boisterous laughter at his side. So he didn’t notice someone approaching him until there was a tap at his shoulder.

A tap that may or may not have nearly sent him careening off his barstool and onto the floor, only to be caught by strong arms, his own limbs focused on keeping the hood in place around his ears. Billy glanced up through his lashes, feeling the flush unfurl across his cheeks at the sight of a concerned, blue-eyed gaze. With a somewhat undignified noise, he clambered back to an upright position on the stool, his face blazing.

“Hulkling!” Tommy shouted, his voice jostling Billy from his embarrassment, however briefly. Glancing over his shoulder, Billy could see his brother crowding up against Teddy’s side, giving the larger youth a jab in his sides with quick fingers. He watched as a slightly-annoyed smile filtered across the blond’s face.

“C’mon Tommy. Knock it off,” Teddy complained, swatting at hands moving too fast to hit. There was no anger in his voice, instead a gentle trill that meant Teddy was probably fending off a laugh. He glanced to Billy and though his easy smile faltered, it didn’t vanish completely. Billy counted that as a triumph of sorts.

Before he could open his mouth, to try and repair the damage between them, the girl named Cassie was at his side, tugging at his arm insistently. He hadn’t even seen her approach him, let alone heard her shouting over the sound of the music.

“Come dance with me!” She chimed again once she had his attention.

Billy glanced back to where his brother had been harassing Teddy only to see the space occupied instead by a group of strangers gathering for drinks. They must have already been pulled to the dance floor by the rhythm pounding so loud it vibrated through the floorboards. He tried to spot them among the crowds, but the lights were dim, the room only illuminated by colorful strings of lumini twisted and hanging among the rafters.

With a grin, one he hoped didn’t showcase his nerves, he turned back to Cassie. “Yeah, sure.”

Apparently that was the only permission she needed, whisking him out to the middle of the dance floor where the concentration of people was even greater. Cassie’s hand was a gentle pressure around his wrist, and it helped ground him as they started to sway to the music. Her style of dancing was broad and sweeping, like she’d taken classical lessons as a child, and it was at that point that Billy realized he knew nothing about these people. Sure, he knew things that he had learned from Tommy and their brief interactions, but not one of them had mentioned their societal titles. He couldn’t remember the last time someone wasn’t introduced to him as “so-and-so from the Merchant sector” or “the young Lord what’s-his-name.”

It was a relief in a way he didn’t expect.

So he danced with Cassie, not worrying about where the people around him were from or how integral they were to society as a whole, and just focused on keeping up with her movements. She grasped hold of his hands after a few moments and twisted him around in a half twirl, head tossed back and laughing. When she stopped, he was looking across the opposite side of the dance floor and could feel the exact moment his stomach dropped to his knees.

Teddy was on the other side of the room, pressed close to a girl around their age, her hair flowing in thick, wavy curls down her back. There was a smile on Teddy’s face, warm and bright, and Billy couldn’t help feeling a gnawing ache of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. Cassie was shouting something behind him, and though he couldn’t make out her words over the rush of sound assaulting his ears, he saw Teddy lift his gaze from his dance partner and turn in their direction.

The smile he shot toward them, toward _Billy_ made his stomach tip from jealousy to a coiled, writhing heat in seconds. And then Teddy was heading over, after exchanging a few quick words with his dance partner, weaving his way through the throng of bodies with ease. Billy shifted his attention to Cassie, but when he turned, she had already vanished.

“Hey,” Teddy’s voice was close, just as it had been the first time they were left alone on a dance floor, and there was the gentle pressure of his hand against Billy’s shoulder. “Looks like you forgot everything I taught you last time.”

“Huh?” Billy replied, cursing his practically unintelligible response as he turned back to the blond.

Oh _wow_. Teddy was close. Really, _really_ close, with his broad hand slipping from Billy’s shoulder to the small of his back in one fluid movement. If he noticed the blush raging out-of-control over Billy’s features, he didn’t mention it.

“Guess I’ll have to remind you.”

Billy just about swallowed his tongue. There was a soft smile playing around the edge of Teddy’s lips and his voice was thick, sticky-sweet like honey. Whatever Cassie had shouted across the room had obviously worked in his favor, though he didn’t dare ask what it was. He couldn’t risk screwing this up. Again.

“Put your hands on my hips,” Teddy offered, his voice quiet, breath warm against the shell of Billy’s ear through his hood. His right ear, Billy noted, the one without the dangerous-looking sigil winding through it. The whole situation was so familiar now, felt so _right_ that he settled his hands on the blond’s hips without hesitation. He felt Teddy’s hands shift, one moving to his shoulder the other sliding just beneath his ribs. It tickled, a little, until Teddy tugged them closer and Billy felt all his breath leave his chest in a shuddery exhale.

They moved without speaking, without verbalizing when hands should move where or which way to step aside of a couple dancing with particular vigor. At one point, Billy found his thumb slipping beneath the hem of Teddy’s shirt, pressing a gentle touch to the smooth skin of his hip. He almost pulled away but there was a soft sound, a quiet, pleased rumble at the back of Teddy’s throat that he wouldn’t have heard, had they not been so close. Billy felt the sound all the way down his spine until a slow heat began pooling in his groin and he tried to think of something less appealing.

His mind was a jumble of contradicting thoughts so he didn’t notice the shift in movement until he felt the brush of Teddy’s fingers at the side of his neck, his thumb stroking a gentle line along the bottom of Billy’s jaw. Forcing his gaze up, he immediately regretted the decision. Teddy was so close, their bodies nearly pressed together among the sway of sound, and the blond’s face was only inches from his own, his lips pressed into a lopsided smile. Billy could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and with the scant amount of room between them, he was sure Teddy could too.

“Billy?”

“Y-yeah?” Billy swallowed, forcing the word past his lips though it sounded strangled and high to his ears. He watched as Teddy’s tongue darted to wet his lips, eyes drawn to the motion, and Billy snapped his mouth shut to stifle the sound that threatened to bubble forth.

Teddy’s thumb was a hot pressure along the line of his jaw and Billy found himself focusing on that, using it to ground himself. If he spent too long thinking about the intensity in blue eyes or the wet glide of a pink tongue over plush lips…well, it would be a lost cause at that point.

“Can I—”

There was a sudden flash, a burst of sound, and then everything devolved into panic. The music was gone, replaced by screams and shouts and the sound of hurried footsteps. Teddy’s hands went from gentle to hard in a second as he pulled Billy behind himself, backing to the wall. In the dim light, Billy could see his features changing, shifting to an enraged scowl as his eyes darted about the room, sifting through the crowds of scattering people. Holding tight to Teddy’s arm, which felt as stiff and unforgiving as stone beneath his hand, Billy was pulled through the room along the outer edge, creeping ever-closer to the thin door tucked behind the bar. He couldn’t see Tommy, though with the way the the crowd was pulsing and shifting, Billy wasn’t sure even the speedster could find him in this mess.

Near the doors, where the chaos was most concentrated, he could see the flash of light reflected off gleaming shields—shields that belonged to the night patrol, which should have been just past the walls, in the city proper. The thought of them here, in a small (probably very illegal) bar past the border, made Billy’s stomach clench with unease. They were nearly at the thin door when he saw Tommy, just a blur of color, darting between the guards and flipping down their visors with vigor. He could see Eli and America as well, brawling with a few of the soldiers and holding their own, despite being outnumbered. Even Cassie was among the fray, a barstool brandished in front of her like a weapon. The other occupants of the bar were streaming out a back exit, Noh-Varr waving them through with quick glances back to the scuffle.

Teddy was pushing him towards the door, the hand at the small of his back steady and persistent, but Billy wavered in the archway. “Wait, what about Tommy?”

“He’ll be fine,” Teddy growled, his voice pitched low and sounding nothing like the syrupy tone it had been before. “Go. Don’t let them see you. Get past the wall and get home, _quickly_.”

“But,” Billy protested, looking back to the tangle of fighting and not seeing the flash of pale hair among the rabble.

“GO!” Teddy all-but-roared, shoving him hard through the tiny doorway. Billy nearly upended himself on his own two feet, feeling more than a little off-center when Teddy sprouted _wings_ and took off, snarling, into the fray.

He knew, from the moment he saw them, watched them working together as a unit, as a team, that he would only mess this up by getting involved. So he did the only thing that had been asked of him and rushed through the small, crowded back room, weaving among barrels of strong-smelling liquor and stacks of teetering crates. Somehow, he managed to make his way to the hidden door at the back, flipping the latch and stumbling into the night. He’d only made it a few steps from the Rat when he felt a hand close around his upper arm and another shift to cover his mouth. Billy fought against the grip, trying to push his elbow back and up as he had been taught in his self-defense classes, when he heard the quick, quiet cursing in his ear.

“Shit, stop. Just stop squirming. They’re going to hear us if you make a bunch of noise, idiot.” The voice was young, and though Billy turned, trying to make out the other’s features, it was impossible between the dark and the thick hood pulled halfway over their face. “I’m going to get you out of here, just be quiet for a minute. There are goons around the corner.”

Sure enough, when Billy concentrated, he could hear the murmured voices just on the other side of the quonset—exactly where he had been about to run to. After a moment, when the voices dwindled to no more than a soft hum, the youth who had grappled with him was tugging him out into the streets at a swift clip.

They dipped between buildings and beneath the shadows they cast, slinking unnoticed past groups of city guard that should be elsewhere. Rounding a corner, the youth at his side froze, the grip on Billy’s shoulder squeezing tight. There was a group of men, five or six of them, loitering about in the middle of the side-street that they had been about to cross through. Their voices carried loud and high, bouncing off the nearby buildings, and Billy wondered why he hadn’t heard them before, hadn’t known they were just around the corner.

“Shit,” the youth hissed, backing Billy into the alley they had just slipped from, hand never losing the connection between them.

Just as they were filtering back into the shadows, Billy caught sight of the crest woven into the sleeve of the soldier’s jacket. A brilliant crimson rose, surrounded by a battalion of deadly thorns. “Gods above,” he said, unable to stop himself, and earning a bright emerald glare from his young companion.

“Shut up. You trying to get us killed?” The hand was back over his mouth and the kid was close enough this time that Billy could see it was a boy, definitely several years younger than himself, and that he was silently mouthing a series of words that weren’t familiar.

Despite all the noise they had just been making, the guards took no notice of them, eventually drifting off to another area of the rims. Only then did the boy step back, hand still grasping at Billy’s shoulder. “Okay, coast is clear. Come on.”

“How did you do that?” Billy hissed as he was dragged off through the last stretch of buildings to the barricades. They had taken so many loops and turns, he had no idea how he ever would have found his way back to the wall without drawing attention to himself.

The youth glanced over his shoulder, smile bright and wide, eyes glowing a subtle green. “Wouldn’t you like to know. I trust you can get home from here.”

Billy nodded, though his head felt thick and heavy as if it were stuffed full of cotton. “Yeah,” he mumbled, examining the wall and knowing he could hover over using his magic, if he concentrated hard enough. “Thanks, uh…”

He turned to get the boy’s name, only to see that he had already gone, the echo of his presence displayed as a wisp of grey-green smoke drifting through the air. Billy shook his head, dispelling the feeling of a foreign magic and calling forth his own. If he was quick, and careful, he could make it home before anyone noticed him missing.

\----

The house was silent when Billy returned, and although it had taken him longer than he expected to walk from the outer walls, he had still beaten Tommy back. That made his stomach clench and twist in an uneasy palpitation. He sat at the edge of his bed, listening carefully for any sound in the hallway that may alert him to his twin’s presence. If morning came and Tommy still wasn’t back, he would have to tell someone, no matter how mad his brother may about it.

He didn’t have to seek his mother’s aid, however, since a few hours before sunrise he heard the shuddering snap of Tommy’s door, pulled too-harshly shut. Billy frowned, standing with a quiet protest from his knees, which he had been unconsciously jittering as he waited. There was no sound coming from the room across the hall, not even the subtle shift of feet on carpet that Billy would normally hear for ages after his brother returned. Throughout their lives, he could remember very few instances when Tommy had actually been still.

Billy knocked.

And knocked again.

When he didn’t get an answer on the third try, he gently pushed the door open with a quiet murmur. “I’m coming in.”

There was no answer, and for a moment he wondered if he misheard, if Tommy really hadn’t come back and it had just been in his head. Then a shifting of motion at the fringe of the bed caught his eye and Billy felt his heart thunder to a stand-still.

Tommy had returned, looking a little battered but all together in one piece. However, he was seated on the very edge of his mattress, head lowered and clutched between quivering fingers. Billy held his breath for a beat, closing the bedroom door behind himself before he spoke. “Tommy?”

His twin looked up, goggles still in place, though Billy could see that his eyes were rimmed with red. There was a bruise starting to bloom across Tommy’s left cheek, though it didn’t seem nearly as important as the hollow gust of air that passed through his lips.

“They took her.”

“What? Took who?” Billy asked, taking a few steps toward the bed before Tommy tore his gaze away, voice rising with fury and anguish as his body trembled against the bedspread.

“They fucking took her! Just like that! And we couldn’t even—”

“Tommy, please. Calm down. We can fix this. Who was taken?” Billy spoke in a hurried whisper, seeing the subtle glow starting to twist around the other’s lithe frame. While he understood anger as well as anyone, they really didn’t need to have an explosion go off in the middle of the night.

Tommy seemed to realize it as well, his body shuddering to a standstill as he slouched back into the grip of his hands. Though the subtle glow had gone, his brother’s broad shoulders shook with the effort. Billy moved cautiously, hovering just out of reach. “What happened?”

“They took her,” Tommy answered, his voice hitching as he struggled around the words. “They took Cassie.”


End file.
